


Everlasting

by Savvylicious



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cultural Differences, Fluff, M/M, Slow Build, mini series, so much fluff and angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savvylicious/pseuds/Savvylicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mini series following Bard as he steps into the role of being a king and the relationship he forms with his neighbor, the elf king. Thranduil may not be able to help him much, but he can give him a push in the right direction, at least every once in a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everlasting

Thranduil thought the new Lord of Dale was being more antisocial than usual. Then again, they hadn’t been particularly friendly in the past year since the Battle of the Five Armies, war and restoration being what they were and all, and those didn’t exactly leave time for small talk. But this was Bard’s coronation. Surely he knew of its importance, and how rude he must seem to the council by avoiding them. His children too, watched on with confusion.

Bemused, Thranduil continued to watch the man scurry about, and then followed him unto the balcony. Bard was muttering something but silenced himself when the elf king came to stand at his side.

"Something troubles you, bargeman."

Bard leaned against the marble railings and said nothing, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Thranduil waited for a long while, then turned, bowing his chin just enough so he could look down and see the top of the man’s head.

"I would listen, if you would tell."

There was another long pause, but Bard gave the elf a sideways glance and seemed to deflate. “I don’t think I can do this.” He admitted, quietly.

"And why not?"

Bard thought for a moment, “Because I don’t know how to be a King. I know how to boat and fish and hunt. I know how to hush the fussing of a newborn. I can cook and sew and trade and fight but I know nothing of what it is to be a King.”

Thranduil felt his head tilt and he merely blinked when Bard tore himself away from the railing and began pacing.

"I don’t know Dale, or how far the lands extend. I have little interest in politics and taxes and government. I wouldn’t know a diplomat from a noble if someone took a fortnight to explain it to me. I don’t know how to speak to royalty, let alone how they dress and act. I cannot ask what it is you do because you are an elf and I doubt you would share that information with me. Your ways are different than ours and you hardly come out of the forest. I cannot ask the dwarves. The next kingdom of men is thousands of leagues away and I cannot send word to ask for their guidance even if I tried."

He ran two fingers over his mustache, brow furrowing. “For goodness sake Thranduil, I cannot even read or write.”

Bard’s eyes were clouded and the uncertainty and distress on his fine features upset the elf.

"How could I _possibly_ hope be their King?”

Thranduil closed the distance between them, gently pulling Bard’s hand from his face so the two could look at each other. If his fingers lingered longer than they should of, the bowman mentioned nothing of it. “There is little you can do now, Bard.” He began, voice soft, almost reassuring. “You are their king and they will look to you, regardless of your faults. Remember that you led them into victory. They remember that you protected them, and the reason you are here now is because they know that you will go on protecting them, regardless of your royal know-how.”

His smile was faint, but genuine, and he thought the light that blossomed in Bard’s eyes with his words was a heartwarming sight indeed. “Come now,” he breathed, turning back towards the archway. “Or I’ll have to put the crown on your oldest instead.”

Bard huffed with amusement, but trailed after the elf, his concern significantly lessened. Just as they were about to enter, Thranduil put out an arm and they both came to a halt. “I may not be able to help with your rule, but I can share my literary skills. Come see me in a week’s time.”

The children spotted the two of them and waved, neither more excitedly than little Tilda. This time, Thranduil did not try to stop the pulling of his lips. “Do bring your children. They must also learn to read and write as well.”

"I couldn’t leave them behind even if I wanted to. I’m afraid they’ve grown quite fond of elves."

"Indeed?"

"Aye m’lord."

_And so have I._


End file.
